


Glass Sky

by Merit



Category: Old Kingdom - Garth Nix
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-19
Updated: 2014-12-19
Packaged: 2018-03-02 03:30:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2797943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merit/pseuds/Merit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Night time exploring with the Dog.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Glass Sky

**Author's Note:**

  * For [raedbard](https://archiveofourown.org/users/raedbard/gifts).



When Lirael was almost sixteen – almost sixteen and still without the Sight, she _still_ had the crumpled child’s robe that her aunt had given her, covered in dust in the corner of her cupboard, every time she saw it her gaze would pause before her eyes would glide right past it as if it wasn’t there – she discovered the Stargazer’s room.

She had been bored. She hadn’t any new exciting tasks at the Library. And even with everyone being called so often – Lirael bit her lip – _because_ everyone had been called, there weren’t many people needed in the Library. So Lirael had been wandered, the Dog several yards behind her, sniffing delicately at an impossibly tall statue of a Clayr and Lirael had paused in front of a bust.

Her features were obscured by dust, but through it Lirael could see a hint of a smile that seemed dangerous. Distantly, Lirael wondered how closely related they were. She traced a finger down the bust’s cheek; Charter symbols warm under the touch. Lirael frowned. It was possible that a Charter stone mage, one of the Wallmakers maybe had made this, but why a bust? She leaned closer and shrieked when the bust’s eyes snapped opened. Lirael jumped back, one hand on her sword, the other hand half raised to form a charter symbol of destruction. She felt the Dog skid as she ran up to be beside her.

Then the bust laughed. It sounded rusty. But the dust fell away in a cloud that left her spluttering, leaving stone that looked freshly hewn. “Oh child, you startled me,” she whispered, her voice like water sliding down a stalactite. “I haven’t seen a Clayr in years,” she frowned, looking worried. “Or a dog. In my day dogs weren’t allowed in the Library,” she added looking archly at the Dog. The Dog wrinkled her eyes. She had sat down in front of the bust. Her tail wasn’t wagging, but her hackles weren’t up either. “But there’s been some dark times, haven’t there? I can feel in my bones.”

“Erm, yes,” Lirael said. She didn’t see any bones, but she hadn’t seen a talking bust before either. But she let her hands fall, still primed to launch a Charter spell if necessary. Lirael didn’t trust the bust, but she also didn’t want her hands awkwardly lurching in the air. “We didn’t have a king or queen for years and years.”

“Tragic,” the bust said, eyes dark. She didn’t have pupils, Lirael noted with discomfort. “The Kingdom needs a ruler. Without them, without the blood, the bonds break,” her voice grew darker as she spoke and Lirael shivered as if a cold wind blew through the ancient corridor. Then, “A queen ruled when I died. She was still quite young.”

“The king now is pretty old,” Lirael said, with all the grace of someone who was almost sixteen.

“Almost old enough to be your father,” the Dog inserted, her tongue lolling out in amusement. Lirael flung her an annoyed look. Out of all the things she had to say, Lirael thought, shaking her head, grateful for the black hair that shielded her eyes for a few moments.

“But you must have noticed then,” the bust continued, looking directly at Lirael, “The door behind me. The guards have fallen. The Charter spell is breaking.”

Lirael had hardly noticed the door. It was small, dark stone, granite she thought absently. The symbols etched it were ancient, faded by time. Charter swirled under the stone, but it was faint. The smell of Free Magic was barely perceptible. Lirael probably wouldn’t have noticed if the bust hadn’t pointed it out.

“When did this happen?” She asked, peering closer. The Free Magic might have been from a weak creature, or it could be weeks, months ago and from something far more dangerous. Looking over her shoulder, Lirael carefully adjusted her sword and thought of the best Charter spells.

The bust attempted to shrug. It looked more odd than funny. “I don’t keep track of time here,” she murmured. “And the Charter marks are so weakened. The room might not even do what it was supposed to anymore. A creature must have escaped and been attracted to the power,” the bust looked down. “Ah yes. I believe that scorch mark looks like Analem. Nasty creatures but weak willed.”

Lirael hadn’t even noticed the mark. But this corridor probably hadn’t been used in decades and dust had settled into the cracks, cloaking the walls.

“What does the room do?” Lirael said, she caught glimpses of faded Charter marks and felt in awe of the complexity, the power. It had something to do with the sky, she thought.

“Oh it is the Stargazer’s room,” the bust said airily. “Mirael built it. Her father was a Wallmaker and she spent some time with her father’s people in her youth.”

“The Wallmakers?” Lirael said with wonder. This room was over a thousand years old, eyes widening as she speculated, her hand reaching out to touch the stone. It was only the Dog huffing that stopped her. “Right,” she said, straightening her robes and not tripping over the sword like she would have done only a few short years ago. “So you look at stars? Like an observatory? Down here?”

The bust laughed. “Oh much more than that. You’re up there with the stars,” she said. “You watch a comet pass, a blushing bride with a fiery train. Suns form and end. Mirael could control it, but I don’t know anyone else you could,” she added sadly.

“Ah,” Lirael said, suddenly feeling awkward. “And you are?”

The bust seemed to gather herself up, features stiffening. “My name is Tyrelle,” it was, Lirael reckoned, one of her innumerable cousin’s names, “I was a _Librarian_ ,” she said haughtily, and Lirael could feel the emphasis, the _when it meant something_ , then Tyrelle frowned. “And then I wasn’t...”

“It is nice to meet you Tyrelle,” Lirael said. “This is the Dog,” she said, gesturing to the Dog. “And I’m – ”

“There was a creature,” Tyrelle said, eyes bright with the Charter, marks falling out of the corner of her eyes. “It came up from the deep, deep beneath the glacier. We were always building then. People coming and going. We thought nothing could have survived the water, but it had been powerful and vengeful. It killed so many. Mirael,” Tyrelle sighed, letting her head fall. “After, I asked to be put here. Mirael had carved it. I thought it a poor representation at the time,” she said, her voice full of sorrow and regret.

“I see,” Lirael said, fingering the edge of her robe. She looked to her side and swallowed. Nobody had ever come to her with _personal_ problems. All the girls her age had the Sight and pitied her. All her fellow the Librarians had the Sight, were older and probably pitied her as well. She took a deep breath.

“You didn’t expect to last this long, did you?” The Dog inserted. Lirael looked at the Dog. She was sitting calmly, a patient look in her eyes. “Over a thousand years,” she added and Tyrelle winced.

“So long. I must have stayed here for a reason,” she said distantly, “Rather than join the Charter. I didn’t fear death,” she said hotly. “I was a Charter Mage. I wasn’t going to,” here her lip curled, “Become a Free Magic sorcerer.”

“No,” the Dog said calmly. “But you thought Mirael might not be there, didn’t you?”

The bust seemed to pale even though Lirael knew that had to be impossible. “I don’t know what I expected,” she said, her voice suddenly uncertain.

“You can go now,” the Dog said kindly and barked. It was a sharp command and Tyrelle almost fought it before relaxing. Soon the bust looked just like ordinary stone. Lirael stamped her feet, resisting the urge to follow.

“Well,” she said. “What now?” She felt better that Tyrelle was gone. Maybe she would find Mirael, maybe not. That was for the dead to know. But no was meant to stay alive forever.

The Dog grinned. “We should see what’s wrong with the Stargazer’s room.”

The doorknob was glass – no crystal – golden stars decorating the base. Lirael put her hand on knob, the crystal cold and icy against her hand and the door whooshed open. She didn’t take a step forward but suddenly she was suspended in the middle, the middle of the sky. Lirael opened her mouth and looked up. Stars flowed across the sky, a comet flew past her, ripples sending her floating back. Lirael looked down and bit her lip.

There was nothing but star speckled blackness below her. Panic grew in her stomach.

She looked around and couldn’t see the door. Lirael breathed in but choked instead. There wasn’t any air here, her thoughts scrambling madly. She hadn’t taken a step forward, she thought, her hand edging to the tiny mouse. Her hand froze on it. It would probably just float with her, she thought glumly. She tilted her head, the whistle at her lips. It would have to be the last of the air.

A tinny sound emerged before quickly fading,

Lirael felt herself falling, dropping painfully onto the solid pavestones in the Clayr Library. The Dog whuffed, waving her tail cheerfully.

Lirael raised her sleeve and groaned. She was going to have to spend her evening studying ancient tome after ancient tome _and_ repairing the rip the Dog’s bite had caused. It was going to be hard to explain those stitches if anyone asked. Maybe she could explain it away as one of the visitor’s dogs, she thought, getting to her feet. She rubbed her backside and gave the Dog a long suffering stare.

“Don’t,” she sighed, drawing her hair away from her face.

“But you make it so easy,” the Dog said, her jaw stretching into a grin. It looked horrible. Lirael shuddered, but fondly rubbed the Dog’s ears. The Dog stretched her back and whined happily.

“I suppose it’s for the best,” she said, walking back. It was almost dawn. She was due to start work in a few hours. She would come back the next night and try and seal the room. “Maybe we should try fixing it as well?”

The Dog shook her head. “Oh that’s for the Wallmakers,” she said and pressed against Lirael’s leg. “Maybe you can lead them here one day.”

Lirael snorted. “They’ve been dead for a thousand years,” she retorted. “I’m not going to be finding one of them in under any old tree.”

The Dog only winked before bounding forward. Lirael rushed after her, hoping that nobody was awake to see her chasing a dog through the Library.

 

* * *

 

“And you sealed the room?” Sam asked. He was frowned at the door, a pencil behind one ear. Behind them, Lirael could hear several of her younger cousins giggling. It wasn’t often than a man, never mind a prince, entered the Clayr Library.

“Eventually,” Lirael said ruefully. “It took me weeks. I half expected a Stilken or something worse to drop on my head,” she said, shrugging.

“Ah,” Sam said carefully, taking a wary look around the corridor. He blushed when he saw a blonde head or two disappear behind a wall. Lirael bit her lip to keep from grinning. “Did that happen often?”

“Once is really enough,” Lirael said solemnly.

“True,” Sam said, nodding. “And the bust,” he said, looking at the ancient bust of Tyrelle. In the years since Lirael had spoken to her it had deteriorated badly, her cheeks were pock marked and her hair had several chips, “Spoke to you?”

“She told me about a room where a daughter of the Clayr and a Wallmaker could manipulate the skies above,” Lirael said. “It broke, it started seeping out. There wasn’t any air in there,” Lirael said, gesturing to the door, the light reflecting off her gold hand. “Which is a serious design flaw.”

“Hmm,” Sam said, rubbing his chin.

“I thought it might be something interesting for you to do,” Lirael said. “Something from the Wallmakers’ time that _isn’t_ the Wall. But potentially,” her voice slowed, “A marvel.”

“I’ll try,” Sam said, flashing Lirael a grin.

Lirael nodded.

 


End file.
